


The August and September 2017 Fics

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Language, Platonic Joanlock - Freeform, Romantic Joanlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: I lost all of the fics I have ever posted to tumblr. In a moment of unfathomable stupidity I deleted five years worth of posts. I am searching through my writing files and ferreting them out as best I can and placing them here grouped by year and month. Yes, I will be spamming the tag. I apologize.For the most part they are stand alone, relatively short and written for my own amusement... quality will vary





	1. Cookies

Joan sat at the head of the kitchen table, back to the fridge and a glass of milk before her. Also before her was an open package of Oreo cookies, almost a fourth of which she had consumed. No plate. No napkin.

Sherlock watched her. She ignored him.

He hazarded a comment. "Biscuits, Watson, at this time of night?"

"Cookies." Joan corrected him without looking up. "I'm eating cookies at ..." she glanced at her watch, "10:37. Is that a problem?"

"It's just your usual fare in the evenings is fruit. A tangerine or apple or if you're feeling indulgent, cereal or peanut butter." 

"Yes, well, tonight I wanted cookies, okay. I've had a shitty day, a shitty month ... the whole year's been shitty and I .... I am going to sit here and eat as many damn cookies as I want! Is that okay with you?" She bit the cookie in half and chewed sullenly. 

Sherlock nodded wordlessly and pulled out a chair for himself. He knew better than to ask questions of her. He'd get no answers. If she had wanted to be alone, she'd be eating in her room. 

"May I?" He motioned to the package. She nodded and he helped himself, giving it a quick exam before putting the whole thing in his mouth. 

They ate in silence.


	2. Shall we dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigations force them into situations that they would not normally find themselves.

The silk skirt shushed against him. One hand moved to lay lightly at her back while the other accepted the warm hand she offered him. Lightheaded, his senses overwhelmed with the orchestral swell .... the scintillation of jewels in the candles' glow ... the scent of a rare and sweet perfume and .... and ... her. His fingertips stretched across the silken texture; he swore he could feel the deep dark redness of her gown. 

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment to re-center himself.

He opened them to find her eyes waiting for him, full of amusement and a small question of concern. Nodding his head to allay her fears, he held her waist a little tighter. Joan moved closer into the black of his tuxedo jacket. 

Something within both ignited and they moved as one across the ballroom floor. 

The waltz reached its end and as the last sweet reverberations of the strings faded, Joan and Sherlock separated and stood catching their breath. The smile that crept across his lips was caught by her and returned to him tenfold. 

"You dance very well."

"As do you ..." 

Gazing into each other's eyes, the smiles faded into unabashed adoration. 

Transfixed, they stood inches from each other until the soft slow melody of the orchestra's next offering broke the trance. 

"May I have one more?" Sherlock whispered and extended her his hand. 

Once more her hand slipped into his, once more his hand eased across her back. This time Joan moved in closer, laying her free hand on his shoulder, her head grazing his cheek. He brought their joined hands to his chest and their bodies swayed to the music's gentle rhythm. 

Joan lowered her head onto his shoulder to hide her pleased smile. A contented glow filled both and though the dance floor teemed with other couples, they felt the only two ... 

The song ended before either wanted to let go. They held on until the buzz of Sherlock's phone vibrated between them.


	3. Doctor's Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get Sherlock to take his medicine.

"Stop running away from me!"

"I am not running away from you, I am walking." Sherlock took the stairs before him two at a time. Watson was not deterred. Glass of water in hand, she followed close up behind him. 

"You are being a child. This is for your benefit not mine." 

He reached the first floor landing and he walked towards the front door.

"Sherlock!" She yelled at him. "Don't you dare leave! You are taking this pill!"

"No." He confronted her. "I am an adult an I get to decide what I consume. The efficacy of that drug has not been determined, at least not to my standards."

"You are a adult who is ill and this medicine will help. The doctor prescribed it, I researched it and I approve. It can help you." She took a menacing step in his direction. 

"Stop right there Watson, or I'll ... I'll ... "

She kept coming closer.

"Don't for a moment think I won't use force on you. I am twice your size and stronger. I can easily overpower you. Stop ... I said stop!"

His rant had no effect on her. She now stood inches from his face. "Open your mouth!"

He clamped his mouth shut and folded his arms in front of him. He stared at the floor. 

Joan stood unwavering but her voice changed taking on a more quiet, intimate tone. "I don't want to lose you Sherlock. I want you to get better and this pill will help." 

He glanced up from his sulk and studied her face.

Her voice was now barely a whisper. "You know how much I love you. I would never ask you to take something that might harm you. Please, take it ... for me."

She offered the pill to him once more. Sherlock closed his eyes in resignation. He could not stay unmoved by her words. He opened his mouth, she plopped in the pill and handed him the glass of water. 

Joan touched his cheek with the back of her hand. "Why don't you lie down. You feel a little warm."

He shook his head. "What next? Shall I put on my onesie and have you tuck me in?"

She smiled. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel better."

"Then fish net stockings and black stilettos from my next dose perhaps?" He mockingly flashed his eyes at her. 

"If that's what you want. I'll make sure to bring the whip to complete the outfit." She spoke as she walked away and missed the look of absolute adoration in Sherlock's eyes.


	4. Would you love me any less

"Ah, Watson! Look at this unsavory lot. Suspects one and all and each one more repulsive than the next." Sherlock, shirtsleeves rolled up, stood in front of the library fireplace, over which row upon row of mugshots were pinned, some flagged, some written across, all looking extremely menacing. "One wonders if ugly is a prerequisite for the brutish evil, or if the sheer force of the evil oozes out from within contorting them in this manner."

Joan, crossed the room's threshold, scanned his work and vaguely nodded as she sorted the mail in her hand. "Looks like Denis lied again. His check is not here."

Undeterred by her lack of interest, Sherlock continued, waving the photo of one Elias Simmons before her, "Look at the loutish sneer, the dimness of the eyes, the crags, protrusive brow... I wonder would you love me less if my countenance held such features."

Joan raised her head, her quizzical look turning into a crooked smile, "Who says I love you at all?"

His look of hurt and embarrassment was almost instantaneous; his eyes flicked from her face to his hands, to the wall and then finally down, "I ... um ... I didn't ... sorry...." Not knowing what else to do or say he quickly turned back to the wall and pinned Mr. Simmons up with rest of the never-do-wells.

Joan quickly understood. He tried, but sometimes he missed cues and what was meant to be a humorous quip on her part was received by him as a harsh reprimand. 

She walked up to him and stood close beside him, placing her cheek lightly on his upper arm. "That was a joke." She whispered. "You know I love you. .... I would love you even if you looked like Mr. Unibrow No-Teeth up there."

Sherlock did not look at her. He nodded and attempted to quash the pleased look that threatened to breach his tightly controlled features.

Joan placed the lightest of kisses on his cotton-shirted shoulder, and stood with him for moment until she was sure he understood. 

He cleared his throat, "Would you like me to place another menacing call to Denis, our deadbeat client?"

"No." Her hand smoothed at his back before stepping away. "I'll call him, while you start tea."

A relieved sigh escaped him as she walked out of the room.


End file.
